Kali Strikes Again!

Sunday evening.  Guess what my burp tasted like?  Pesto!!  You never would’ve guessed that.  It’s the prettiest day EVER… except my life is getting decimated by the fierce mother goddess, Kali and all I can do in the face of this uncomfortable destruction is inhabit it with neither glee nor despair… but just a sense of pale, raw willingness… and stay off of drugs.

 

Yeah, the depth of sobriety that life is asking of me now, is quite remarkable.  Almost like it’s own high.  Everything is so simultaneously mundane and far fetched.

 

Ugh, I was just overtaken by a compelling impulse to erase this writing, close my computer and get on with my life.  Like maybe just do a bunch of hip openers and then mediate.  Yeah, Athena… THAT’S gotta be the ticket to eternal happiness and fulfillment.  Wink.

 

Heck, maybe I’ll break the mold and just write a short blog today!  THAT would be unheard of here in Athena Graceland.  Yes!!!  I’m gonna drive off the road tonight, in my neon pink corvette.  After all, it’s father’s day.  That doesn’t really mean anything.  Why am I even bothering to waste my time, spewing words that add up to NOTHING?  Sheesh.

 

I guess I’ll just tell you that I haven’t written in a while, because I’ve been feeling overwhelmed… because I am moving out of my gorgeous, light, spacious apartment by Lake Merritt at the end of this month… and I haven’t chosen to harness the luxury of time to sit and sip sweet, creamy tea and muse on frivolous philosophicalities of life, love and the universe.

 

Instead, I’ve been going thru my belongings and getting rid of a lot (which has felt terrifying to the small, false me, who insists she exists, when she actually might not at all…).  Not to mention having a few long, draining conversations with Ed about our currently flailing (though ever LOVING) Relationship…It all feels like its falling apart right now.  Shrug.  I’m just trying to stay tuned into God, and let our Loving Source lead the way.  I think I’m doing pretty great.  But it’s certainly not the most joyous process.  My face feels mostly serious.  My body feels dull.  And my heart and mind feel arduously sober and a little too stiff for my liking.  I can’t see but two feet in front of me, and yet, I hear this intuitive whisper calling up from the depths of my soul, informing me that even though this current cycle of decomposition and shedding feels uncomfortable and awkward and even a bit torturous in certain momentsf, it is clarifying me into the most exquisite servant of God!

 

From my inside, out, there is NOTHING that I’d rather be, than a clear channel of pure, Divine Love.  And like, why would I want to be who I was YESTERDAY??? Zzzzzz.  While the familiar has it’s own holy shade of seduction, it sure can overstay its welcome!  I’m yawning.  It’s seven fourteen pm.  Native american flute music is kissing about the platinum, soulstice evening light.  Tribal drums dribble in through my open window, and have a soft, sonic spar with the gentle, breathy waves of whispering flute.  Just like life, it’s simultaneously awkward and beautiful, like sipping a sassy cocktail on an expensive balcony, overlooking a majestic city full of anonymous fucking and killing, birthing and death, mundanity and artistic splendor.

 

I digress.  Where am I going at the end of the month?  To the Momshram, where I will do a rigorous, month-long yoga teacher training, and then maybe continue to marinate in my own sacred juices for another couple of weeks before returning to the Land of Oaks to do another fifty hour tantra yoga immersion.  There.  I said it.  I know, sometimes I get so swept away in poetic metaphors and meandering, heart-wrenched prayers, and dramatic recounting of my love life, that I forget to just share the basics with you.  Do I want to be a yoga teacher?  Shrug.  Maybe.  Maybe not.  But I certainly want to keep diving into the beautiful, boundless depths of my own heart, and sharing generous sips of the Infinity I find in here, with anyone who wants some.

 

I mean, it’s either that, or become an accountant.

 

Okay, I’m tired of writing now.  My brain is fuzzy and my body wants to move and stretch.  My breath wants to run like a river racing through a deep cut of ravine, eagerly pouring back toward Source… Om Namah Shivaya.

 

Something good is happening here.  But I can’t make out its shape in this dark.  Shrug.  That’s how it’s sposta be for now.

 

Live,

A

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